


Ring of Fire

by je_gigote



Series: Taylor Sisters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/je_gigote/pseuds/je_gigote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters arrive in McHenry, Illinois one frigid midwinter evening to investigate some mysterious barn burnings, but another set of siblings--sisters raised as vampire hunters with a '73 El Camino and a penchant for The Clash--might best the boys at their own game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ring of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This work is intended to occur shortly after 3.08, "A Very Supernatural Christmas".

_December 28th, somewhere near McHenry, Illinois..._

A shiny black Impala roared eastward from Route 20 on a day so cold the growl of the engine seemed louder in the clear midwinter sunshine. It passed through the heart of town, then turned south, heading back into farmland. It turned onto a gravel road and slowed to a stop in front of an old farmhouse which, at one time, many years ago, has been painted light blue, but now was just sort of a faded gray. About 50 yards behind the house stood the burned ruins of a barn. Dean stepped out of the driver’s side, blowing steam into the air, testing the chill.

“Whew, it’s a cold one!” he exclaimed to no one in particular, looking over at his brother. “Dude, you look like an idiot.” Sam had put on a scarf, hat, and gloves before he exited the car.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna be warm, you moron.” Sam looked up at the house, then unfolded a map from his pocket onto the hood of the car. “Okay, so there’ve been similar barn fires with human remains in Marengo, Huntley, and one as far south as Elburn. What do you think’s going on here? Demons?” As the brothers pored over the map, something roared in the distance. The brothers looked up, squinting, their breaths making puffs of steam in the freezing air.

“Who is it?” asked Sam.

“Not sure,” replied Dean, his hand reaching around his back for his gun.

 

A black ‘73 El Camino not totally dissimilar to the Impala rumbled up the driveway and Dean swore.

“Dammit. Taylors,” he muttered. Sam relaxed.

 

The driver stepped out first, a tall platinum blonde girl in leather pants and a black motorcycle jacket.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Zoolander and the Moose!” she exclaimed sarcastically. “What a _nice_ surprise!”

“Lucy,” Dean acknowledged. “What the hell are you two doing here?” The passenger door slammed shut, and a shorter girl with long blonde hair, a nose ring, and purple-rimmed glasses walked around to the front of the car.

“Dammit. Winchesters,” she muttered. “Can’t believe you beat us here.”

“Nice to see you too, Sera,” said Sam, smiling halfheartedly.

“We got word from Elburn there’s been a series of weird barn burnings with charred human remains in the area, and no one knows this turf like us,” Lucy said, striding up to Dean. She stood nearly as tall as him and Dean drew himself up to his full height in an attempt to look down his nose at her.

“Demons are _our_ thing, Taylor,” Dean replied. “You stick to your vamps and were-pups and let the big boys sort this one out.” Lucy smirked.

“From what _we_ hear, Winchester,” Sera drawled as she strolled up to the Impala, “you’re _all_ about demons and deals these days.” Dean glared at her.

Shut. Up,” he snarled, and actually made a step toward Sera like he was going to do something intimidating to her.

“Okay, okay, guys,” Sam pulled his brother back by the arm. “Break it up.” He actually seemed vaguely amused by the whole scene.

“You been down to check out the barn in Elburn yet?” Lucy asked, crossing her arms. Dean and Sam exchanged a look. “Didn’t think so. Don’t bother going now,” she added. “It’s an hour each way and it’ll be dark by the time you get there, you won’t be able to see anything. Looks like we’re ahead of the game on this one.”

“This isn’t a game,” Dean snarled.

“Look,” said Sam, clearly trying to defuse the situation, “maybe we can work together on this. You’ve seen all the barns, we think it’s demon activity, maybe we can get this done in a night or two and just be on our merry ways.” Now it was Lucy and Sera’s turn to exchange glances. Lucy shrugged.

“Okay,” said Sera, and turned on her heel to retrieve a flashlight out of the El Camino. “Oh, and Dean?” she called over her shoulder. “You may want to put on a hat. And some gloves. It’s gonna get cold tonight.”

 

\--------------------

 

The group of hunters crunched farther down the gravel driveway toward the barn. Dean and Sera, as the older siblings, naturally took the lead, leaving Lucy and Sam to fall behind.

“Despite how Dean’s acting, it _is_ actually good to see you two again,” Sam said quietly to Lucy so that their siblings couldn’t hear.

“Yeah,” agreed Lucy. “Last we heard, you guys spent Christmas in Michigan? Taking down pagan gods?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “That was weird. But we ended up having a really nice Christmas anyways. How about you?” Lucy smiled.

“We were with our grandma down in Elburn,” she said, her voice softening. “With our grandpa gone, she worries about us and our hunting.”

“From what I hear, your granddad was a hell of a vampire killer,” said Sam.

“He was. He--” Dean cut off Lucy.

“You guys wanna go chat it up over a cup of coffee, or you wanna help us find a demon here?” he called back. Sera rolled her eyes. Lucy and Sam caught up.

 

Not much remained of the barn, just a charred wood frame and some odds and ends--shovel heads, rusted chains, and the burnt-out body of an old tractor.

“Dean,” Sera called, shining her flashlight in the center of the barn. A perfect circle on the floor some fifteen feet in diameter remained completely uncharred, untouched by fire. At the center, the remains of an old metal office chair. The human remains had been removed days before by the county medical examiner in order to determine the identity of the unfortunate soul.

“Huh,” Dean said, and crouched low to the ground, examining the line between the fire’s remains and the uncharred circle. Lucy bent over, lightly touching the ground, then put her hand to her nose.

“Ugh,” she muttered, and made a face. “Sulfur.”

“Demons,” Dean observed, and stood up again. “But why? And why the bodies...” he trailed off, thinking. “Lucy, tomorrow you and I should go to the coroner and check out the remains.”

“Why me?” asked Lucy defensively.

“Because we have to leave the two nerds to do the research,” Dean replied, grinning. Sam and Sera scoffed. “Shut up, you love it,” he smirked, blowing warm air into his cupped hands. “Come on, it’s freezing out here. I want a beer.” Sam looked at Lucy and Sera apologetically and followed his big brother back to the Impala.

 

Sera shook her head, then took one last look at the burned-out barn in the bluish twilight.

“If I didn’t feel bad for those two, I’d want to kill ‘em,” she said when they were out of earshot.

“I know what you mean,” her sister replied as she watched the brothers amble back to their car.

 

_That evening..._

 

“All I’m saying,” Sera shouted over the country song blasting from the jukebox and the roar of the bar crowd, “is that you’re a better hunter at something when you grow up doing it. Instinct, you know? We’ve been hunting vampires since we were, what, eleven, twelve? And we know how to do it properly. The same way your dad raised you hunting demons. I wouldn’t go within a hundred yards of a demon den.” She aimed the dart in her right hand and threw. It landed on double 18. “Dammit! I’m too short for this game,” she swore, shaking her head as she moved aside to let her sister throw.

“Still,” said Dean, swigging his beer, “vampires? That was damn dangerous of your granddad to take you out on hunts like that.” Sera raised her eyebrow at Dean and swigged the last of her beer.

“Maybe,” hedged Lucy, and threw her dart, “but we learned all the same. And Grandpa was probably more careful than we know. When I think about the hell he must’ve caught from our mom _and_ Grandma--he was probably putting himself in more danger with the two of them than with any nest of vampires. I’m out,” she said to her sister, indicating her win.

“Crap,” replied Sera. “You guys want another beer? Next round’s on us,” she offered.

“Yeah, sure! Thanks,” said Sam. Sera and Lucy headed over to the bar. Dean leaned past his brother, inconspicuously checking out Sera.

“Dude!” Sam whacked his brother in the arm. “Could you be any more obvious right now?”

“What?” asked Dean. “She’s fiesty. I like that.”

“Yeah, but you’re totally doing that playground thing where you give her a hard time ‘cause you like her. _Girls don’t like that, okay?_ It never works!” Dean leaned back.

“Sure it does. Sometimes. Wait, shut up! Here she comes!” Dean tried his best to look really, really cool.

“Beers, fellas,” Sera chirped as she handed out the bottles.

“Where’s Lucy?” asked Sam.

Sera looked over her shoulder, motioning with her beer bottle. “Jukebox.” Lucy seemed to know just what she wanted, flipped through the cds for a minute, then put in her dollar and punched the number. The opening guitar riff of The Clash’s _Train in Vain_ blasted over the bar’s speaker system.

“Cheers!” Lucy shouted over the music as she returned to the table. They all clanked the necks of their beer bottles together, echoing Lucy with their cheers.

“You may hunt vampires for a living,” Dean smirked, “but you’ve got hella good taste in music.”

 

_The next day..._

 

The Impala rumbled into the parking lot next to the Woodstock Municipal Center. Lucy waited outside the building, one hand shoved into her trench coat pocket, the other curled around a paper cup of coffee. She scowled at Dean as he strode up to the door in his dark suit.

“You’re late,” she grumbled, draining her coffee.

“From biker chick to FBI agent--you clean up pretty good, Lucy,” Dean smirked. She was wearing a suit under her trench coat, the pencil skirt cut slim to fit her slender frame. In her black patent leather high heels, she stood a few inches taller than he did.

“Shut your face, Winchester.” She tossed the cup into a trash can and filed past Dean as he held the door open for her.

 

“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the front desk.

“Hi,” said Dean, flashing his million-dollar smile. Both he and Lucy flipped open fake FBI badges. “Agents Clayton and Mullen, FBI. We’d like to take a look at those charred remains found in the barn down on Ames Road about 2 days ago. You still got ‘em?” The woman smiled shyly at Dean.

“Let me check with the coroner,” she replied, and left the desk. Dean leaned over and shuffled through some papers, checking for evidence or anything that might have a bit of information helpful to the case.

“You’re shameless, you know that?” Lucy scoffed. Dean glanced up, flashing that million-dollar smile again.

“That I am,” he replied. “But I happen to know if that chick was a dude, you’d’ve pulled the same smile to get in to see that crispy critter.”

“You’re right,” she acquiesced. “I probably would’ve.”

 

The coroner talked rapidly as she led Dean and Lucy down a well-lit hallway.

“I still haven’t identified the remains. Not enough left to run dental records, and no one’s come forward with a missing person in the past few days. So I’m left to run old missing persons cases that _might_ match the remains. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“Sounds like it,” Lucy sympathized. The trio turned into the morgue. The storage refrigerators were on the opposite wall. The coroner pulled open a door on the bottom level, then slid out the tray holding the remains. She pulled back the plastic sheet covering the body. Dean winced. Lucy crouched down, narrowing her eyes, scanning the remains.

“Here,” she pointed at the mess of bones and charred gristle. She held her hand out to Dean, not looking up from the corpse. “Gimme a pen.” He produced one from his suit jacket and handed it to her. “Here,” she repeated, prodding what used to be ribs with the pen. Dean flinched. “There’s stab wounds to these bottom rib bones, just tiny little chips. Didn’t cause death, but they were definitely--”

“--tortured,” Dean finished. Lucy and Dean exchanged glances. Definitely demonic behavior.

“Huh,” said the coroner, squinting and moving in closer to examine the remains.

“Hard to notice because of the advanced state of incineration,” Lucy explained. She stood back up, dropping the pen into Dean’s front jacket pocket. He shot her a disgusted look that could have melted steel, but she ignored him.

“We’ll call you if we need anything else,” Lucy said to the confused coroner, and walked out of the morgue with Dean following.

 

The sunlight deceived the duo as they walked out into the parking lot: the cold hit them like a punch to the gut. Dean exhaled as he buttoned his suit jacket, his breath making a cloud of steam.

“So why’s a demon trolling the Illinois countryside, torturing their victims before they torch ‘em?” he wondered out loud.

“No idea,” replied Lucy, “but you’re driving. Sera dropped me off on her way to the library.” The Impala’s door groaned as they pulled them open, climbed in, and slammed them shut. The roar of the engine starting drowned out Dean’s nagging thought that they were missing something. Something big.

 

_Meanwhile..._

 

The bright midwinter sunlight streamed in through the window of the dingy motel room. Sam and Sera pored over their respective laptops, the sound of their keystrokes the only noise in the room. Once in a while, one bounced an idea off the other, but nothing really seemed to hold any ground. Sera unfolded herself from her cross-legged position, stretching her arms above her head.

“So, a demon wouldn’t just go rogue?” she proposed, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“Hm?” Sam looked up from his screen. “No. It just doesn’t make sense. Demons love following orders. That way, if they screw up, there’s always someone else to pass the buck up to.” Sera smiled.

“Just like politicians,” she replied. Her phone buzzed. “What you got?” she asked into it. “Huh. ...Okay. Yeah, we’ll look it up. Okay, thanks. Bye.” She pressed “End call” and put her phone down. “They’re on their way back,” she told Sam. “Lucy found stab wounds in the lower ribs, but not fatal.”

“Torture?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrow.

“That’s what she and Dean think.” Sera stood up and walked over to the window, squinting in the sunlight. “What do you think?” she asked him.

“It just doesn’t add up,” Sam replied. “I can’t work out the torture with the ring of fire thing. Unless it’s a new breed of demon, which would really suck.” He frowned.

“Well, what about ghosts? I’m just thinking out loud here.” Sera crossed her arms, slowly pacing.

“I mean, it’d have to be a _really_ vengeful ghost to torture and kill, and ghosts only haunt a certain area, like a house, or a stretch of road. Ghost activity is never random like this. I’m fairly certain we can rule out ghosts.” Sam ran his hands through his hair, scratching the back of his head. Sera threw her hands up.

“Wait, wait! I knew I’d seen this somewhere!” She dashed over to her laptop and began furiously typing and clicking. “Having a PhD in history isn’t _entirely_ useless,” she muttered. Sam got up and walked around the table to peer over her shoulder. “Aha!” she shouted, and pointed triumphantly at the screen.

“Pishachas?” Sam read, confused. “Never heard of ‘em.”

“That’s because they’re these really obscure Hindu demons and no one’s ever heard of them unless they’ve taken a really boring-ass graduate course in Hindu religious folklore and mythology. Do me a favor, will you? Check and see if those barns were rebuilds of old barns that burned down on those sites?” Sam returned to his computer, entering the information for the barns they’d previously explored. They sat in rapt silence for a few minutes, their eyes glued to their respective screens.

“Huh,” said Sam. “Yep. Previous fires on all those sites, and guess what: deaths in all those early fires.” Sera turned her laptop around to face Sam.

“That adds up. Pishachas haunt cremation grounds--which these would be, unofficially--and feed on human energy. Okay, so they lure some poor soul to these barns, and torture them--pain creates the greatest, most intense amount of human energy--and then they torch the barns, creating the ring of fire to get their victim as frightened and panicked as possible--more human energy. Then they incinerate the victim at the last possible second.”

“Sick,” gasped Sam.

“But predictable,” added Sera. “They probably come out to hunt every couple hundred years, make 6 or 7 hits, and then shed human form, just floating around the ether on pure human energy.”

“Smart,” said Sam.

“Yep,” Sera replied. “Which is what’s gonna make this bastard so damn hard to catch.” She flipped her computer around again and started typing.

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“We can’t just summon it and kill it. We’re gonna need to present an acceptable sacrifice so we can trap it. Lucy isn’t gonna be too happy about this.” Sera grimaced.

“We’ll just let Dean do it,” Sam drawled. “He’s gonna insist, and he’s got this deathwish anyways.” His face saddened.

“Won’t work,” Sera replied curtly. “It’s gonna know how defiant Dean is in the face of sheer terror. It’ll sense that right away. Besides, one of you is going to need to hold Lucy back while I sit there. The other will have to read the banishment mantra.” She sat back, and her eyes had a thousand-yard stare to them.

After a moment, Sam asked, “Should I call Dean?” Sera’s eyes clicked back into focus.

“No,” she replied. “Let them have their ride back in peace.” They sat in silence for a few minutes. Someone’s watch loudly ticked the seconds.

“Sam? Can I give you a bit of unsolicited advice?” Sera looked across the small table. “I think I can consider you a friend, so I want you to know I’m just looking out for you here. But we’ve been hearing you struck up a bit of a friendship with a demon and--” Sam sighed and shook his head, looking down. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this from me too, you probably get it bad enough from Dean. Just, I have a feeling about all this. Be careful, okay?”

“Yeah.” Sam replied the same way he might if he were getting the same admonishment from his brother.

“Come on,” said Sera, standing up. “Let’s get some lunch. We’ve been cooped up in here all day. I’m gonna need some fortification if I’m gonna be a Hindu demon sacrifice tonight.” They pulled on their coats and walked out into the blinding sunshine.

 

_Later that afternoon..._

 

“No, no, NO! HELL no!” Lucy shouted as she came out of the bathroom. She’d changed from her suit and heels into skinny jeans and a black tee shirt with the Batman logo on the front.

“Lucy, come on. It’ll be fine. We’ve got Sam and Dean backing us up. Nothing will go wrong,” Sera pleaded, trying to calm her sister.

“Oh great!” Lucy threw her hands up in the air. “So the fabulous Winchester boys will be there! I feel so much better now!” She looked over at Sam and Dean, both leaning against the wall, their arms crossed. “No offense.”

“Um, some taken?” responded Sam, a little hurt.

“Sorry,” offered Lucy. “But we all know that something could go very, very wrong here. Sera,” she looked at her sister, “I don’t know why you don’t just let Dean do it.”

“Oh, hey, thanks,” said Dean sarcastically.

“No,” Lucy looked over at Dean. “I mean, you guys know demons better than we do. Why don’t we just let you take the lead on this, we can act as backup--”

“So you’re saying we’re not good enough hunters to do this?” Sera accused. “You know damn well--”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying! We’re a team here, sister,” she said, her tone a warning.

“I know, I’m sorry,” replied Sera quickly. “But--look. It’s not gonna come after Dean if we set him up in there. He’s got this stupid attitude about dying--”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

“You know what I mean,” Sera said, rolling her eyes. “You’re just not afraid of it anymore the way Lucy and I are.” Her voice got quiet.

“What you said last night, at the bar,” Dean began, “about demons. They seriously freak you out, huh?”

“Yeah,” replied Sera, her eyes fearful.

“Look,” Sam said, crossing over to Sera, “We’re gonna do all we can to keep you safe.” He looked straight into Lucy’s eyes. “Both of you.” Somehow his stare disarmed her a little.

“I swear to God, if Sera gets hurt,” threatened Lucy, “I will take you both out with my bare hands.”

“And after this is all over tonight, and she’s okay, we’ll buy the first round,” countered Dean, holding out his hand to Lucy. She shook on it.

“Deal,” she said, with a hint of a smile.

 

\--------------------

 

The sky darkened to indigo as the sun set--almost earlier than it would at any other time during the year. The Imapala and the El Camino were the only two cars in the motel parking lot, parked just a space apart from each other. The lot looked rather conspicuously like the world’s smallest classic muscle car show. Counting on the growing darkness to conceal her dubious activity, Sera stood at the tailgate of the truck, checking guns, loading clips, sorting through knives and assorted weapons that she and her sister had half-collected on their travels and half-inherited from their grandfather.

A motel room door opened and closed behind her. She could tell from the footsteps it was Dean. Without looking over her shoulder, she asked, “Everything okay?” He unlocked the trunk of the Impala, used a shotgun to prop up the panel that hid their weapons, and began going through the same actions as Sera: checking gun chambers, putting knives and salt in an old army duffle bag. 

After a moment, Dean replied, “Sam’s trying to talk her down. Either she’s overreacting, or she’s really freaked about this pishacha thing.”

“A bit of both, I’d guess,” Sera answered, adding _Why do you think I escaped out here?_ in her thoughts. Dean put down the shotgun in his hands and looked over at her. He crossed his arms and sat on the open trunk, watching her preparations. She clicked on a flashlight to dig through a rucksack, and he could see her breath make little silver clouds in the darkness. The light from her torch made a sort of silhouette of her head, and she looked a bit like an angel, backlit and graceful.

“Sera?” he asked, his voice smaller, more unsure than usual.

“Hm?” she replied, still rummaging.

“I--I just wanted to say thank you for your help with this.” The words tumbled out of him, and Sera knew how how it must be for him to accept any sort of outside help. To admit, in a way, that he even needed help at all. She stopped what she was doing, and looked across the empty parking space at him. It was dark enough that she couldn’t see his eyes--she could just sort of make out the features on his face. It was like cubism by darkness, which made her smile.

“No problem,” she replied lightly. “Really.” They stared at each other across the night, each waiting for the other to say something. Dean gave in first.

“Oh, hey, I’ve got this for you,” he said, turning to poke around in one of the battered shoeboxes in the Impala’s trunk. He fished out a small pouch, and drew something out of that with his fingers, holding it up. Sera squinted, then pushed up the El Camino’s tailgated and slammed it shut before crossing the empty parking space.

“What is it?” she asked, seeing as she neared that it was a small round charm hanging from a leather cord.

“Anti-possession charm,” he replied as she took it from his hand. “Don’t know what will happen to you tonight, but at least we can rule that out.” She slipped it on over her head, then looked up at him.

“Don’t you need one, seeing as you’ll be right there doing the mantras and all?” His hand went under the layers of his coat and flannel to his t-shirt, and he pulled the collar down, toward his heart. In the dark, his skin was white as chalk, the pentagram tattoo on his clavicle a black brand. Sera’s ears burned from the cold and from something else, maybe. She wouldn’t let herself think about that, not now. Not with the job just hours away.

“Not a bad idea,” she murmured.

“Your ears are red,” he noticed, and she felt like an idiot.

“Just cold,” she replied. “C’mon. Time to formulate a game plan.” 

 

\--------------------

_The plan was this:_

In their research, Sam and Sera found a barn that had burned down about twenty-five years earlier, over on Fisher Road, just south of Volo. They’d head over to the site, and Sera would summon the pisacha with a mantra she’d found online. (What kind of stupid idiots were putting Hindu demon summoning rituals on the internet? It pissed her right off.) The pisacha would get to work, but before it could do too much damage (“I’m tougher than I look,” Sera declared), Dean would start in with the banishing mantras and Sam and Lucy would come in with the salt and holy water, just in case. The pisacha would be banished back to Hell, they’d fix up Sera’s scrapes, and then all go out for a round on the Winchester brothers.

 

_How it actually happened:_

 

After they’d reviewed the plan in the Taylors’ motel room, they geared up, layering on flannel shirts and winter coats and hats and fingerless gloves (except for Dean, who announced that he didn’t need any of that wuss stuff). Lucy looked over at Dean, who was flipping through the pages of John Winchester’s journal.

“Got the mantra?” she asked pointedly. He gave her a Look, then flicked to a page toward the back and held it up, exposing the page where Sam had written the mantra in his italic script.

“Let’s get this over with,” Sera said, opening the door. They filed out, and Sera locked the door behind them.

“Seastar!” she called as they walked across the parking lot, and lobbed the car keys at Lucy, who deftly caught them in one hand, even with the dim light provided by the one working lamppost.

“Nice catch,” remarked Sam with a smile.

“Thanks,” said Lucy, opening the driver’s side door. She looked across the roof of the El Camino and the empty parking space. “You guys follow us. We should be there in about half an hour.” Gracefully, she folded herself into the car, slamming the door shut. The engine revved, and after a moment, the forceful chords of a punk song blared from the radio. _This is! a public! service! announcement!_ The sisters wailed along with Joe Strummer. _With guitaaaaaaaaars!_ As the El Camino roared out of the parking lot, Dean chuckled to himself.

“Those Taylors are our kind of hunters after all,” he said to his brother with a smile.

 

\--------------------

 

As the Impala pulled up the gravel road to the abandoned farmstead, its headlights illuminated the sisters pulling shotguns, salt, and spray paint out of the bed of the El Camino. Sera turned to the face the Impala as it pulled in, and it was clear she was frightened--she looked like the proverbial deer in actual headlights. After Dean cut the engine, the silence of the farmstead was cut only by a breeze blowing through the naked branches of the trees.

“Right,” said Sera, slamming the lid to the hidden weapon stash in the El Camino’s bed, “I’ll go in there, do up a demon trap, cover it, summon the bastard, and let it get to work.” She rolled the can of spray paint nervously from hand to hand, looking at Dean. “Don’t wait too long, okay?”

“I won’t,” he promised.

“Good luck,” added Sam, trying his best encouraging smile. Sera tried her best to return it, then turned to her sister.

“Just...trust Sam on this one, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.” Lucy’s eyes, wide with fear, narrowed in anger, biting back a retort.

“Be careful,” she replied quietly, and Sera clicked on her flashlight and headed to the barn, about 200 yards from where their cars were parked. The light of her torch bumped along the ground and got smaller and smaller until it disappeared into darkness.

 

Lucy sat against the tailgate of the El Camino while Dean and Sam leaned against the hood of the Impala. Wordlessly, they stared up at the sky, their ears straining for any sounds of distress from Sera. The gauzy cirrus clouds that streaked the sky during the day had blown east over Lake Michigan, and stars dotted the blue-black above them.

“What’s that?” asked Sam, pointing at the sky to the southeast. It glowed faintly, orange fading into the blackness.

“Chicago,” replied Lucy. “We’re only about 40 miles out.”

“Huh,” said Sam.

“Easy to forget,” mused Lucy, “out here. It’s so calm, so still, so quiet.” Which would have been a great cue for a scream to pierce the air, except it didn’t come. Instead, a lone owl hooted off in the distance, the sound dying in the breeze. Lucy wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

“Thought the cold didn’t bother you,” Dean teased.

“That’s Sera,” Lucy replied distantly, her mind elsewhere. “She’s the Viking. Me, I’d rather we spend our days hunting vamps down south, somewhere like--” A panicked, fierce scream cut her off. Without hesitation, Dean sped off toward the barn, his flashlight barely illuminating the path.

“Sera!” Lucy called, and started to the barn, but Sam grabbed her arm. “Sam, let me go, damn it!”

“Lucy, no. We need to stay calm. Help me get the guns and salt,” Sam said firmly. They gathered up the shotguns and extra canisters of salt. As Sam slammed shut the trunk of the Impala, light exploded from the barn with a loud rush of wind: it became an enormous fireball.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, and the two ran as quickly as they could to the barn, laden with the instruments of war against a demon.

 

The heat from the fire was a wall that made the air feel thick and their limbs feel sluggish, not to mention the smoke that was everywhere since there was open air all around them. Lucy tore into the barn through a hole in the wall of fire and Sam dashed in behind her before it had a chance to be consumed by flame.

“Lucy!” Dean called from the far side of the barn. He was trapped by the flames, his dad’s journal in his hands, the pages flapping in the wind. “Stay where you are!” He began reciting the banishment mantra as best he could in broken Hindi, praying what he was saying would translate.

 

As what was left of the walls crumbled bit by bit into the fire, making the flames leap higher into the black sky, Lucy’s eyes focused in the center of the barn, where an invisible force held Sera to a chair as if she were tied to it. Her blonde hair clung to her head, damp with sweat and blood, and there were slashes of blood on her arms and chest. Lucy couldn’t tell how injured her sister was, but she could see that Sera was still conscious. As Lucy scanned her eyes to make sure she wasn’t in any immediate danger, she noticed that the chair her sister sat in was definitely in the center of a circle protected from fire--even the straw scattered on the cement floor beneath the chair was undisturbed. And then, from behind Sera, a billow of smoke parted to reveal a huge demon not unlike one that she’d seen in one of Sera’s books. It was at least eight feet tall, muscular, with coal-black skin and yellow pointed teeth and blood-red eyes that seemed to shine with the intensity of the fire. It floated, rather than walked, seeming to ride in one of the smoke clouds of the fire. Standing in front of Sera, it reached one enormous arm back, and she cowered as if it were going to strike her.

“No!” Lucy screamed and dropped her duffle, lunging for the circle. Sam was at her side in an instant, throwing his arm across her to stop her, and simultaneously aiming a sawed-off shotgun at the demon, who turned to Lucy and Sam, and smiled an awful, horrifying smile, then disappeared in an instant.

“Where’d it go?” shouted Lucy above the roar of the fire.

“Dean?” Sam yelled, not answering Lucy’s question, because both of them knew even if they couldn’t see the demon, it hadn’t gone too far. Dean’s voice continued to shout the mantra, although above the fire it was hardly heard. Without taking her eyes off her sister, Lucy crouched down, rummaged in the duffle bag, and pulled out a canister of salt. If she could get a good shot of that asshole demon, she was going to take it.

 

With a flash like lightning, the demon floated down from what used to be the roof of the barn, head first, like Spiderman in that stupid movie. ( _Damn it, Lucy,_ she cursed herself. _Thinking about comics at a time like this?_ )

“What the hell...?” Sam murmured beside her, and she couldn’t do anything. She was frozen in terror, trapped by the fire, unable to save her sister. She felt like she might throw up. Sera’s whole body went slack, her head fell back, unsupported. As the demon neared her face, Lucy could just make out a brightly glowing light rising from her chest to her throat. It began to rise up, through her open mouth, just a small shining orb of light, and Lucy knew that it was all over in a matter of seconds. She screamed her sister’s name one final time, and in that moment, as Dean finished the mantra, the demon’s head jerked up and stared right at Lucy. It’s eyes still glowed bright red, but for an instant it looked confused, then with another flash like lightning, it disintegrated into a cloud of thick black smoke--thicker even than the smoke the burning barn emitted--and rushed to the floor, seeping into the ground with a roar. As the last of the smoke disappeared, the flames all around them died in an instant.

 

Lucy hardly noticed the fire was out, only that she was freed from where she stood, and she rushed to her sister, falling to her knees at her side.

“Sera! Sera!” she cried, passing her hand over her sister’s forehead, trying to wipe some of the sweat and blood from falling into her eyes. Sera’s head tilted to look at her sister.

“Told you I’m tougher than I look,” she croaked with a smirk, and then lost consciousness.

 

\--------------------

 

When Sera asked later what had happened after that, Lucy told her sister that Dean picked her up, carried her back to the Impala, and raced back to the motel while Sam followed behind in the El Camino. She told her sister they’d passed the fire trucks on the way out, too late to put out a fire they weren’t even really sure was a real fire to begin with--none of them suffered burns or smoke inhalation. She told her how she and Sam had gingerly assessed her injuries and were surprised to discovered it was little more than cuts, bruises and a sprained wrist--nothing that even required stitches. She told her how she’d slept for nearly fourteen hours, so deeply that a few times she had to put her compact mirror under Sera’s nose to make sure she was still breathing.

What Lucy didn’t tell Sera was how she cried all the way back to the motel. How Dean hadn’t said a word either, and she might have even seen a tear fall down his cheek before he wiped it away with the back of his sleeve, but it could've just been sweat from the heat of the fire. How she bitched out Dean, just outside the motel room and he took it without a word because he knew she just needed to get it out so she could take care of her sister. How she was embarrassed that Sam had heard the whole thing. How Dean and Sam slept restlessly, a few hours each, on the other bed, but Lucy sat by her side the entire time without sleeping or eating.

Sometime just before the sun started to set, Sera curled onto her side, her eyes fluttering. She stretched out, and awoke to three anxious faces in a dim motel room.

“Hi,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing pink at her embarrassment that they were watching her sleep.

“Sera,” Lucy breathed. “You’re okay. How do you feel?” Sera rolled onto her back, stretching her arms above her head. She winced.

“Ow,” she groaned. “I hurt. Everywhere.” Lucy smiled and handed Sera her glasses.

“You’ll be fine. Just cuts and bruises,” she assured her older sister. Sera cringed at a particularly harsh pain, and held up her left arm. “And a sprained wrist.”

“Great,” replied Sera, putting on her glasses. She looked over at the table across the room. “How’s everyone else?”

“Worried about you,” Sam replied with a note of earnestness in his voice. “But we’re all fine.” She looked over at Dean, and noticed he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted. They all did.

“You guys all look terrible. You should get some sleep,” Sera cracked with a smile. The feeling in the room changed, like someone exhaling after holding a deep breath. Lucy stood up, rolling her shoulders and flexing her spine back to stretch. There was a certain feline grace to it.

“Actually, I need a cup of coffee. You want anything?” she asked Sera.

“Coffee would be great, thanks. And could you rustle me up a veggie burger with everything and some fries? I’m _starving_.” Sera smiled up at her little sister, and Lucy’s heart flooded with relief, and she laughed.

“Sure, whatever you want.” Lucy grabbed her jacket from the foot of the bed. Sam jumped up, pulling on his coat.

“I’ll come too. I need some coffee.” Late-afternoon light flooded the sliver of doorway as they left. Sera looked back at Dean.

“Thank you,” she said, the most sincere thing she’d said since she regained consciousness.

“I’m here to help,” he replied, in that way that he accepted gratitude that wasn't really gracious or accepting. Being careful of her wrist, Sera hoisted herself up against the headboard so that she was sitting upright. Dean got up and took a pillow off the other bed.

“Lean forward,” he directed her, and she complied. He tucked the pillow behind her. “There.”

“Thanks.” He sat next to her on the bed. There was silence, expectant but not awkward, like they both had things to say but were weighing the space first.

Sera spoke first. “When it was the end--when he was pulling whatever it is that he wanted from me--I could hear your voice. It kept pulling me back from the darkness. It was an anchor, keeping me here.” Her voice was calm. He couldn’t look in her eyes, though. Couldn’t let himself lose it in front of this girl that he barely knew. It wasn't about the way he felt about her. It was about her and Lucy, about how he knew how it felt to carry someone else. To have their life in your hands, in your heart. He looked down at his hands, and hers moved into view. She covered his hands with her left hand, wrapped knuckle to wrist with a bandage. He cleared his throat and sniffed.

“I, uh, I’m glad you’re okay.” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but it was something. His eyes darted to the door, but then met hers, and for a moment, they sat like that, and it felt okay. It felt safe. He pulled his right hand away and reached for the hem of the sleeve of her t-shirt, pulling it up to reveal her shoulder.

“Seastar. I get it now,” he smiled down at the purple starfish tattoo.

“ _‘She gives me something to believe in,’_ ” Sera read the words encircling the starfish. “Lucy has one too, like you and Sam and your protection tattoos.” He brushed his fingers over the skin where the ink had raised it ever so slightly. Her skin was still warm from sleep. “Sometimes family is all you have to believe in. Don’t forget that, Dean.” She caught his eyes again, one last time, and they were the most clear and the most sad eyes she’d ever seen.

 

_The last day..._

 

Sera looked west, squinting into the distant sky.

“It’ll be snowing soon,” she predicted. Lucy slammed down the El Camino’s hood, doing the cursory checks she always did before a long trip.

“Better get a move on then,” her sister replied. Sam and Dean stood, leaning against the side of the Impala, all packed up and ready to head out.

“That’s the way we’re headed,” Dean indicated with a nod toward the western sky.

“Be careful then,” Sera cautioned.

“We will,” Dean replied, and Sam swore he could’ve seen his brother wink. “Baby takes good care of us.”

Lucy snorted. “You named your car _‘Baby’_? Figures.” Dean stood up in defense.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you call an El Camino ‘The Bat-mobile’,” Dean replied sarcastically. 

“‘Sailor’, after our grandpa. So shut your piehole.” Before he could stop himself, Dean made his _Huh, I’m actually impressed_ face.

“So! Where are you headed?” asked Sam, steering the conversation away from anything that might trigger another spat between Dean and Lucy.

“South,” replied Sera. “First to see our grandma, get fattened up a little. Then I thought we’d head down to Atlanta to see what kind of work we can find. After what we went through, I owe it to Lucy to go somewhere not-arctic.” Lucy smiled and zipped up her motorcycle jacket for effect.

“Well, be careful,” Sam cautioned the sisters with a smile.

“We will,” Lucy promised with her own smile. “And you Winchester boys still owe us a round.”

“Next time,” Sam assured her, nodding.

Not one for goodbyes, Dean pulled open the driver’s side door. “All right, let’s get this show on the road, Sammy. We’re losing daylight.” As Sam rounded the Impala and climbed in, Lucy and Sera climbed into the El Camino. The engines roared to life, and just before the El Camino pulled out of the parking spot, Sera and Dean looked at each other from their respective car windows. Already the moment they had in the motel room was fading, but she knew that his voice would keep finding her when she was afraid, when it was dark and she couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. She might have to tell him that someday, but for now, she just smiled at him. He smiled back.

 

The insistent drums of The Clash’s _Janie Jones_ staccatoed out of the El Camino’s stereo as it peeled out of the parking lot of the Fieldview Motel in McHenry, Illinois and headed south. Dean chuckled and shook his head.

“Westward, dude,” said Sam, and they were on the road to their next job. Snow began to fall lightly, and at sixty miles an hour, Dean got the secret thrill of feeling like he was flying through space.


End file.
